


Dancing In The Rain

by Suncharger



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suncharger/pseuds/Suncharger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's always stood apart, always carried his burdens alone. And they get heavier every day. One mech has had enough and takes matters into his own hands. He'll do whatever it takes to get the other to let him in. One-shot, set after 09 movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing In The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> My first work posted here! Please leave a review and let me know what you think! This was originally posted on my fanfiction.net account on 5/29/2010.
> 
> Disclaimer: Transformers is not mine.

The rain was pouring down, making gentle pings on his armor. Water ran in rivulets down his plating, trying to quench the flames that decorated it. His blue optics were focused on the middle distance, lost in the tides of memory. Images of a broken battlefield superimposed themselves over the island shore before him. The cries of fierce warriors and the wounded echoed the crashing thunder of cannons, the sounds rolling over the land in great peals and waves. The flash of lightning mirrored the explosions that tore life apart with terrifying ease.

On impulse, his battle mask clicked into place. His body reacted, systems heating and weapons onlining, humming with the power contained within his strong frame. His blades extended as cables tensed. Steam rose from his armor as rain hit with a hiss. His spark pulsed; fear, anger, and the deep need to protect his own running through him in surges.

He moved.

He danced, facing invisible foes, blades slicing through the defenseless rain. Moves he had practiced for many millennia came without a thought. He flowed from stance to stance with a grace none would expect from a frame as large as his. He lost himself to the forms, to the memories he associated with each one.

With this move, he had saved young Bluestreak from losing a doorwing. With that one, he had protected Chromia's back when Ironhide had been pulled from her side. This one had given Jazz time to drag the wounded Cliffjumper to the medics. That one had ended the life of some nameless Decepticon intent on killing an already injured Autobot Aerial. The next one had sliced into Megatron's fusion cannon, serving as a distraction so the Twins could pull back to a safer distance.

Every move brought him images of countless battles, of countless wins and losses. Too many close calls, too many threats to face to protect his soldiers from them all. He remembered his failures, remembered every time he stood at the entrance to their current base and watched the procession of the wounded and the dead. He secretly kept a data pad in his subspace that contained the name of every mech and femme that had died for his cause.

He moved faster, his pain at those memories driving him to his limits, to his breaking point.

He had watched many of his Autobots as they reached their limits, he had seen so many break under the pressures of war. Each time, he had personally sought them out, seeking to show them a path to pull their worlds back into their control. He took their worries and fears from them, adding them to his own.

But no one could take his away from him.

His officers had tried everything they could to help him. They forced him to take breaks by changing the lock codes to his office, by denying him access to the Command Center. They bullied and threatened him; they tried using logical arguments about the importance of delegating responsibilities. A few had even resorted to stealing his reports and finishing them for him. Those memories, at least, gave him something to chuckle about. He truly loved his Autobots. Their dedication to him and each other gave him all the reasons he needed to carry his burdens alone. They showed him how to move forward, how to live on after tragedy, even if they weren't aware of what they did.

His greatest fear now, though, was caused by the lack of response to his messages. It had been a little over two human years since he had sent the first message out into space, and since then only seven of his Autobots had arrived.

The war might be over, but how many still were dying for him? How many names were missing from his data pad? Was there anyone left, besides these few who had already come?

Grace fled his movements as his emotions ran rampant in his spark. His attacks became more vicious. The rain didn't stand a chance against him. He closed his optics, not wanting to see the faces of his friends frozen in their death.

But the visions would not be denied.

His CPU ran away from him, parading scenes of 'what if' and other possible scenarios behind his shuttered optics. The tension in his frame built, his burdens getting the best of him. His brilliant spark felt like fracturing into thousands of tiny shards.

_So this is what it feels like to finally break._

With a growl of anger, he crossed his blades and brought them down with enough force to completely shatter an unlucky opponent's defenses. A resounding clang of metal on metal brought him to a screeching halt. His deep blue optics snapped open, instantly focusing on the scene before him.

A single, long silver blade held both of his.

His gaze drifted up the sword, following the arm up to the shoulder, and finally sought out the face of the owner of the weapon. Caribbean blue optics were bright with an unspoken challenge. The silver metal of the mech's body glistened in the rain, blending in with the stormy clouds around them. His stance dared the Prime to press his halted attack.

"You've helped us so much," the usually up beat and loud voice was instead soft, gentle. "Let us help you in return."

Optimus shook his head and pulled his blades back, letting them retract back underneath his armor. He buried his shaking emotions under his mask, only showing a calm face to the younger frontliner. "Thank you, Sideswipe, but I was just getting rid of a little excess energy," he looked around at his surroundings clearly for the first time. He hadn't realized he had moved all the way to the perimeter of the grounds where the lone Twin had been on guard duty. "Thank you for your concern though."

The Prime turned and began to make his way back to the hanger he had claimed as his own. Maybe he could find something else to distract him from being overwhelmed by his emotions. He faintly heard the silver mech sigh as he moved away.

The next instant, something tackled him to the muddy ground.

Using his greater weight, Optimus pushed off the ground, rolling back up to his feet and twisting to find the cause. The smaller bot was crouched, both blades extended. Sandy mud slid off of the red and blue armor as the Autobot Commander straightened to his full height.

"Don't," the warrior ordered.

"Sideswipe, this is…"

"Don't shut me out," he growled. His frame seemed to vibrate with his emotions. "How many times have you picked one of us up after a battle, hmm? How many times have you sacrificed something to see us survive to the next day? How many times have you taken our pain away, only to push us away when we try to take yours?" His voice gained in volume with each question.

Optimus clenched his fists. "You aren't strong enough to carry my pain," he hissed, optics burning with warning.

"How do you know, huh?" Sideswipe ignored the warnings, as he always did. "You've been gone for four millennia, Prime. You have no idea just how much pain we can take now. You, our illustrious and glorious leader, have no slagging clue what we are capable of taking on."

The Prime gave an annoyed sigh. "Enough Sideswipe. I thank you for your concern, but this matter is none of your business." Without another word he spun on his pedes and began to walk.

"Frag it all to the Pit, Optimus!" Sideswipe yelled.

Optimus turned back around in time to deflect a sword with his arm. The smaller fighter zipped around him, getting back behind him. The flamed painted mech spun again, with just enough time to repel another attack. He noticed the strikes weren't meant to damage or hurt, but merely to push and annoy him into reacting. He batted at the offending slaps, trying to keep some distance between him and his assailant. The other was faster than he anticipated though, and the flat of a blade hit him on the back of his helm.

With a muttered curse, the Prime extended an arm blade and punched at his opponent. The silver mech was smirking. "Stop this immediately," the Autobot leader commanded.

Sideswipe swooped around to his other side, getting right up next to him. "Dance with me," he whispered into Prime's audios. "Fight with me."

"No," Optimus practically snarled. He pushed with quite a considerable amount of his strength and the silver twin went tumbling backwards, end over end.

He got back to his feet with a grin, raising his blades and shaking a clump of mud from his shoulder. "Aww, come on, Prime. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way then," Sideswipe shrugged, shifting his stance a fraction. "If you can get past me, I'll let you go alone."

"Listen here, youngling," Optimus stated. "I'm not out here to play your games…"

"So what are you out here for?"

Optimus blinked his optic shutters and gave a small shake of his head before he answered. "I was out here to think and…"

"Bah, thinking's overrated," Sideswipe began to circle him and the Prime turned to keep him in sight.

"So says the mech with the longest medical record in the Autobot forces."

"I'll have you know I am very proud of that record, thank you very much."

"This is ridiculous, Sideswipe," Optimus stated, exasperated. They were again facing the direction of the hangers. "Let me pass."

"No can do, Prime. We're getting tired of seeing you refuse our help," Sideswipe rushed him and sparks cascaded from the impact of their blades.

"'We'?" Prime asked as he made a light retaliation. "Just who is this 'we'?"

"Not telling. Besides, Oh Great Matrix Bearer, you've got a glitch in your processor if you can't figure that one out." Optimus grunted and spun, reversing their positions and moving himself past the Twin, towards the hangers. But the silver mech easily countered his move and they were back to square one. "Now, spill. What's crossing your wires, boss bot?"

The red and blue mech shook his head, expression grim, but determined. "As Prime, I'm ordering you to stand down and return to your post, Sideswipe."

"And since when have I ever followed an order to the letter?"

The frontliner lunged forward, blades blurred with the speed of his attack. Optimus extended his other arm sword to defend himself. For a breem they didn't bother with words. The fight was light enough to expel excess energy, but the blows they traded were becoming harder with each passing klik. Prime felt his memories and emotions rising up again, pushing their way to the forefront of his CPU. He tried to push them away, but his opponent wouldn't let the images fade back to where he wanted them to be.

The faces of his soldiers and friends, both past and present, overlaid themselves over Sideswipe's face plates. When his sword pierced through the silver shoulder armor and drew out the energon that ran within the frame, he saw nothing but the death of his loved ones, of his planet. His attacks became more focused, more powerful as he tried to push the choking emotions out of himself.

Slipping and sliding, both mechs continued to fight, ignoring the deteriorating surface they moved across. The rain pelted against their overheating bodies, attempting to help their cooling systems keep up.

"That's it Prime," Sideswipe muttered softly. "Keep going, keep fighting, keep pushing. Fight me!" Optimus dove at the smaller bot with a deep growl. Sideswipe skidded out of the way and pounced, landing on the Prime's back, forcing him to the ground. He let out a whoop as Prime rolled to try and dislodge him. He continued to laugh as they tumbled across the ground, continued to laugh even as a massive fist slammed into his abdominal plating. "That's it! Let it all out!" He flipped off of his leader's back after their next rotation. "Bring it, bring it!" he challenged, his smirk feral.

"Enough!" Optimus shouted as he rose to his feet. "I have too much to do than indulge you in a sparring match."

"Oh yeah? Like what, huh? What's more important to you than the welfare of your little underlings?" Sideswipe taunted.

"Right now? Planning for any possible arrivals, and planning for anything that Megatron might be planning on doing."

"Tch, planning is a waste of time and processor use, or haven't you learned that during your time as Autobot Commander?"

Prime took a few steps back to make sure they were temporarily disengaged and shook his head. "You're too impulsive for your own good."

"Well you answered that question," the silver mech replied drolly. He continued with a huff. "I mean really Prime. How many times have we gone to battle only for the first shot to send all of Prowl's and your plans to the Pit, hmm? That's why Sunny and me only followed parts and pieces. Once that first shot has been fired, a plan doesn't mean diddly squat." He chuckled to himself. "These humans have such an amusing vocabulary."

"Focus, youngling," Optimus chided.

"Right, right. Focus." Sideswipe shot forward, his blades spread out to either side. The flamed painted mech held his ground and met the charge. It was almost another breem before the parade of images began again. Prime shuddered as guilt from his mistakes and losses ran through his spark. His opponent never stopped though. Thunder rolled overhead, mimicking the sounds of cannons firing in the midst of a battle. Optimus growled deep in this chest and pressed a more violent attack.

"What do you fear the most?" the lone Twin asked in the same soft voice he had first addressed his leader in. "What is it that drives you to push others away?"

Prime pushed back a retaliation from the other, optics narrowed. "What is your greatest fear?"

"That's obvious to anyone who sees us," Sideswipe shrugged. "The day Sunny dies will be the day I die. I will not live on without him."

"Ratchet…"

"We reached an agreement on that a long time ago." The unfeeling way he spoke sent chills down the Prime's circuits. "If he loses one, he will let the other go. Of course, it goes against his nature, but he understands. Why do you think he always gets so protective of us? He'll do everything he can to stop it, but he knows what we want and respects that."

"I have a hard time picturing him giving either of you up so easily."

"Oh, he won't. He'll try everything he can to stop the other from following, but he'll give in. He promised." Sideswipe shrugged the conversation off. "Now, it's your turn to answer."

Optimus spun, knocking his silver opponent off balance for only an astrosecond, but it was long enough for him to attack from behind and pin him to the ground. "My fears are not something you need to know about."

Sideswipe laughed. He wriggled free of the other's grip and flipped up to his pedes. "But we do know them. We've always known them."

Sideswipe's attacks became more focused, more aggressive. He pressed harder, fighting like he would in a regular battle against a Decepticon. Optimus had no problems keeping up, but the ferocity of the assaults made him redouble his efforts to defend himself.

"If you think you know my fears, tell me what they are," Prime couldn't stop the sneer in his voice. His emotions were running higher and higher, spiraling out of his tight control, much to his dismay.

The fighter chuckled. "Oh, where to begin? Lemme see here…ah, yes. You fear death."

"I do not fear death. It is part of the natural cycle of life."

"Let me rephrase that. You fear the death of someone you care about."

Prime stumbled as the muddy ground tried to bury his foot. "Everyone fears that to a certain extent."

"Bluestreak." The flame painted mech's processor seemed to freeze at the name. Instantly, he could picture the young sniper as he lay on some random battlefield, his frame broken and turned to a dull gray and his optics dark. A pang of loss and guilt went through his spark at the thought of the gunner's short life being over. He had always been so cheerful and energetic.

Sideswipe continued to name off names, and scenes of each Autobot's possible death danced through his CPU. His anger rose at each name, quickly breaking through his mental walls. He lashed out, attacking the warrior. He didn't stop, not even when he felt metal snap in the other's frame. Energon slowly leaked from a dozen minor gashes in the silver armor, but the other continued to defend and taunt.

"So what else do you fear?" he asked.

Optimus slashed at his helm. "Don't push me anymore."

"Oh, we're nowhere close to being finished with this," Sideswipe answered. "You fear failure."

"There is always a risk…"

"Of course there is. Failure is always an option. You fear failing to protect us. You fear failing to succeed. You fear failing to die for something meaningful. You fear failing to defeat Megatron and leaving someone else to battle him in your place." Again, the Prime's assaults became more aggressive, stronger. Sideswipe grinned. "That's it. Don't hold back on me now."

Optimus immediately disengaged, pulling away from the other and pulling his emotions back behind his barriers. "I won't do this anymore."

Sideswipe straightened and sighed. "There you go again, running away from me. Why?" he tilted his head curiously.

"What?"

"Why do you keep running away from this?" the silver mech shook his head. "You are Optimus Prime, the last Prime. You command the entirety of the Autobot forces and bear the Matrix of Leadership. Before the war, you lead an entire planet. Why are you letting something as petty as this chase you away?"

"I am not running!" He didn't realize that he had practically shouted his denial at the other. He became too focused on beating the other into scrap metal for not just letting it all go.

"Yeah, now you're not. Now you're acting like the Prime who fights with us. The Prime who is strong enough to lead us into a battle and back to our home when the fighting's over." Sideswipe fell silent for a few kilks, trying to keep up with his commander so he could finish his task. He finally managed to continue. "So who are you, Prime? Are you the one to hide, or fight? Will you stand your ground? Or will you let your fears push others away so you can run?"

"I have never run from my duties."

"Really?" the frontliner looked skeptical. "What about your duty to yourself?"

"What would you know about that? You're just a frontliner. You aren't the one to send bots to their deaths. You aren't the one who hears their whisperings when a battle has been lost."

"Oh yeah, sure. What could I possibly know, huh? I'm just cannon fodder for you. I'm just the one you put in the medbay at the end of the day." Sideswipe growled and forced his way past his leader's defenses. Somehow, he brought the bigger and stronger mech to his knees. "I'm just one of the few who dances with death on a daily basis so you can achieve your goals!"

"Silence!"

"No! I'm just one of the few who suffers through the pain so you can continue with your quest! I'm just one of the few who is willing to cause pain and kill so others don't have to!"

"I said, enough!" Prime bellowed.

"I'm just one of the few who will willingly die for you!" Sideswipe scoffed. "So I guess I really don't know anything about _duty_."

With a roar, Optimus shot to his feet, crashing violently into Sideswipe as the world faded away. Around them, the storm continued to rage.

********

He quickly re-shuttered his optics to block out the harsh lights that glared down at him. Carefully, he tried again, only opening them fully once a shadow fell over him.

A very irate shadow.

"All of us know that youngling needs to be taught a lesson, but pounding him into pieces is taking it a little too far," Ratchet said, sounding surprisingly calm given the look on his face plates. "Of course, Ironhide had to watch for a few kliks, but when you proceeded to rip his arm off, well, he had to step in."

Optimus gazed up at his CMO for a nanoklik. "What did I do?" he asked, his voice tinged in worry and apprehension.

Ratchet nodded, not surprised by his leader's lack of memories of the event. "Sideswipe finally did what many of us have been trying to do for vorns."

"Which is…?"

"He broke through your defenses."

Prime sat up slowly as the words sank in. Images in his CPU became clearer, images of the silver Twin as he calmly took the beating, the grin on his face plates never breaking. "Is he okay?" The question sounded as lame as possible to even his own audios.

The medic hesitated for only an astrosecond. "There was significant damage to the frame," he replied slowly. "I had to completely replace an entire system, and his alt. mode was effectively trashed beyond decent repairs, due to joint damage, blown relays, twisted armor plates, and other structural injuries. I pretty much had to rebuild his right leg, but his left arm wasn't fully detached yet." There was a slight pause as the chartreuse colored mech thought for a moment. "Oh, and you didn't put him in stasis, so that's a plus. But he did have to scan a new alt. mode, and he went back to his original colorings."

"Primus, what have I done?" Optimus lowered his gaze to the floor, guilt flooding his systems.

**Clang!**

He jerked back away from the medic, or more specifically, from the wrench he had just used to dent the other's helm with.

"Don't even start that again," the CMO ordered. "Or I'll turn you into a kitchen appliance. I've got the plans for an entire appliance line ready, just in case. Or a lawn mower. Take your pick."

Prime steeled himself, pushing his guilt and worry back for later examination. "Start what?"

"Don't you dare play dumb with me either, Prime," Ratchet growled. "You just beat the slag out of Sideswipe, effectively making him your punching bag when you released your emotions. You did exactly what he wanted you to do. You've always pushed us away when we've tried to help you with your burdens, but not anymore. And if it takes goading you like this over and over again to get through to you, so be it. He was right when he told you that we don't know how much they can take on anymore."

Optimus let his battle mask snap into place. "Do you need me to stay, or am I free to return to my duties?" The glare the search and rescue hummer gave him spoke volumes about his question, or rather the emotionless tone he had answered the bot's lecture in. "Well, Ratchet?"

The mech slammed the wrench he held into the berth, only a hair's breadth from his leader's hand. "Frag you, Prime," he snarled. "We'll make you learn, one way or another."

"Where is Sideswipe currently?"

"Outside," was the grumbled response as the medic turned away. Prime took that as his signal to leave. He was almost to the doors when the mech called back to him. "Oh, and watch your step out there. The base is bursting with activity."

"What's going on?" Prime didn't like the idea of yet another crisis, not so close on the heels of Egypt. "What's happened? How long have I been here?"

Ratchet turned a smug smile to the Autobot Commander. "Longer than Sideswipe; you needed the recharge. And you'll find out the rest." He went back to his computer terminal, completely tuning out the other with his work.

Optimus pushed it all to the back of his processor. He needed to find Sideswipe. He needed…what did he need? His step faltered as he realized he needed nothing. The tension he usually felt was gone, gone like it had been erased. His body was more relaxed than he could ever remember it being. His emotions felt raw, but calm. His defensiveness with his CMO had been reflex only, a habit of deflecting the concerns of others for so long. He passed into the command center and nodded to Jolt, the mech on monitor duty for the day apparently. He pushed his way through the large double doors and stepped out into the bright sunlight of a new day.

And the sight that greeted him froze him in place with his optics wide open.

Two shuttles, both relatively small for their kind, were parked on the runways and there was a third one coming in low, skimming over the surface of the ocean. Mechs, and several femmes, were everywhere. Engines roared overhead as planes zoomed in to land. Silverbolt and his brothers transformed in mid-air, landing with earth shaking thuds and grins. Shrieks and laughter drew his optics further down the beach. Several bots were waist deep in the water, tossing an unfortunate minibot back and forth. Familiar voices rang out from every angle, calling to friends and for supplies to be moved.

He could hear Red Alert's loud protests about the lack of adequate security while Inferno laughed. He heard Preceptor giving orders for bots to be cautious about lifting his equipment while Wheeljack distractedly told mechs where to put his things. Words spoken so fast they were too hard to understand clearly revealed Bluestreak and Blurr as they worked under Prowl's watchful gaze, while a newly healed and repaired Jazz clung to his side. Hound was kneeling in the sand, just at the water's edge, optics locked on the shell he had just uncovered. Mirage stood a small distance away, arms crossed and a fond smile on his lip components. He could hear other nature-oriented bots moving within the sparse plant growth that took over where the buildings stopped.

Blaster was flipping through random radio stations as he directed the last shuttle to land. Once the ship had landed, the bots finished their post flight checks and filed out, adding more cries of greeting and life to the air. Humans were trying to help organize things, but many had already opted to just stand back and wait until all of the activity was done. Apparently, they preferred not to be squished today. Will Lennox was sitting on Ironhide's shoulder as they wove through the sea of Autobots, the height ensuring his charge's safety as the old weapons specialist helped others. Optimus made a strangled, static filled noise.

Every optic instantly turned to focus on him.

A hush fell over the area as he stared, taking in the faces that smiled back at him. Faces that were lit with the glow of life. Some showed signs of harsh battle wear and tear, but they were all warm, denying their death a place in his CPU's imaginings. Prowl was the first, but with his movement, all of the present Autobots gave a sharp salute. When Optimus made no move to break the silence, the second in command stepped forward and waved the rest of his troops to relax.

"Optimus Prime, sir," he greeted. "I've brought a squad of fifty Autobots with me. Elita-One and Ultra Magnus will be here within the next stellar cycle. The forces they bring will consist of roughly every last Autobot currently stationed on Cybertron. Other commanders throughout the galaxies have been notified and they will arrive within the next meta cycle."

"Thank you, Prowl," he barely managed to get out all of the syllables. His optics were still wide at the sights around him.

The black and white mech nodded, his doorwings fluttering briefly. "I'll have a final report for you once things have settled down."

Optimus just nodded, distracted by the wave of mechs that were rushing forward to meet him. The next few breems passed in a haze of faces and conversations. Somehow he managed to speak with them all, even if it was only long enough to welcome them to Earth. As he mingled with his soldiers, his spark felt lighter. It was a relief to know that at least the names of these mechs and femmes would not be added to his data pad. He had not failed them.

A flash of sunny yellow and flame red pulled his optics to the far end of the runway. Two mechs were lightly sparring. Sunstreaker was circling around his now red painted brother. They each held a blade, and the golden warrior was going through motions that tested the range of movement of the red mech's left arm. Ratchet had left the medbay at some point and stood close by them, watching for any weaknesses in the repairs he had done to Sideswipe. Pronouncing he was satisfied, the Twins immediately disengaged and proceeded to envelop the medic between them. Bluestreak had wandered over, and the four of them sat together, huddled in each other's embrace.

Sideswipe looked up, catching the Prime's stare. He smirked, giving Optimus the usual devilish look he gave to any commander after he had just set up a prank. He turned back and nuzzled his face against his twin's helm, speaking softly into Sunstreaker's audio. The yellow mech snorted, glancing at Prime with his own brand of a knowing smirk. Bluestreak must have overheard because he gave his leader an exasperated look. _Bluestreak_ of all mechs! Ratchet said something and they all grinned before settling down into a heap of recharging metal, soaking up the warm sunlight and ignoring the world around them.

Optimus found himself smiling at the scene.

Maybe Sideswipe was right. It was past time for him to let others help him. He wasn't the only mech to fight and suffer during the war. They all knew the costs of their actions, they all paid the price. There was only one difference between him and his followers.

They didn't stand alone.

And he realized, as several more approached him with happy smiles, that he would never truly be alone again. They wouldn't let him.

**Author's Note:**

> Astrosecond : 0.498 Earth seconds  
> Nanoklik : 1 Earth second  
> Klik : 1.2 Earth minutes  
> Breem : 8.3 Earth minutes  
> Stellar cycle : 7.5 months  
> Meta cycle : 13 months  
> Vorn : About 83 Earth years
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
